


To Be Alone

by owls4ever



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Chlamydia, Gen, HPV, James Bond Being an Asshole, James Bond Flirts, POV James Bond, Post-Goldfinger, Pre-GoldenEye, Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Syphilis, genital herpes, gonorrhea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owls4ever/pseuds/owls4ever
Summary: James Bond hasn't had a medical or physical exam since the day he joined MI6. It turns out all sorts of things can come to light when an agent is forced to undergo a routine exam. For instance, the agent who's spent almost 30 years enjoying the pleasures of the flesh has racked up quite the impressive number of STDs as well.
Relationships: James Bond/Bond Girl(s) (Past)
Comments: 2





	To Be Alone

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes:
> 
> i. The title, [To Be Alone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZcDxk9CSTo8&list=RDpQzXMz4XxCA&index=22), is from a Hozier song of the same name. Much in keeping with Bond movies and title songs, the actual lyrics don't have much of anything with the plot of the story.
> 
> ii. I am American, so if any phrases or wording sound weird, it is probably due to that. I am happy to receive any polite constructive criticism on how to better write British characters.
> 
> iii. In case the tags and summary didn't make this clear, this story revolves around STDs and STD cures/treatment. If that squicks you out or causes other problems for you, I highly recommend you do not read this. I tried to use the NHS' website for all of my medical information, but I am not a medical professional. If I have made a mistake in my portrayal of the cures/treatment, feel free to comment.
> 
> iv. I didn't tag for it, because I don't think it's important enough to warrant it. But, as a content warning, there is a reference to Pussy Galore suing Bond for rape. So if that is an issue for you, be aware.

"James? I'm afraid it is time for your annual physical review," Moneypenny says as Bond comes into the office.

"What?" Bond asks, chuckling. "I assure you, I am in perfect physical condition. A physical review is not necessary, Moneypenny."

"I'm sorry, James, but you aren't allowed on any missions until you've passed your review." Moneypenny smiles. "If you take me on that date you promised, maybe I'll put in a good word…" she trails off hopefully.

Bond chuckles. "Perhaps someday, Moneypenny, but I have just been called into M's office. I assure you, I will be going on missions, and I will not be taking a physical." He smiles again. "And we'll see about that date some other time, hmm?"

Moneypenny rolls her eyes but gestures at M's padded door. "In you go, then."

"007!" M says as Bond comes in. "How wonderful. I've just heard back from the medical team that you haven't had a physical review in…" he glances at his desk and continues, "your entire time here. You are being taken off active duty until you've passed a complete medical and physical check-up."

"But sir!" Bond protests. "You need me. I'm your best agent. I have been for years."

"Yes, well, true as that may be, you need to pass your physical. We'll just have to hope the world doesn't end around us. And if it does, we can always lean on 008. You are not to go anywhere, under any circumstances, other than straight to medical. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Bond grumbles. "But when I come back fit as a fiddle, do believe me next time?"

\---

The physical itself is relatively painless. He's sent through a variety of tests, has blood drawn, is asked to pee in a cup and spit on a stick, has his throat and nostrils swabbed, his hearing and eyesight checked, and reflexes evaluated. Two weeks later, he is asked to come back to talk about his results.

"I'm Dr. Merridew," the white-coated doctor introduces herself, holding her hand out to shake.

Bond summons up his most charming grin. "Bond. James Bond. With my care in your hands, doctor, I feel safer than I ever have before," he declares. "Say, surely you have another, more personal name? Since we'll be so close, of course."

Dr. Merridew snorts. "I'm so glad you feel safe in my care. And the answer is no. You can call me Dr. Merridew. Anyway, most of your tests came back clear," she adds, tapping her clipboard.

"Shame," Bond pouts. He shrugs. "But good, then I'm back in operation and cleared for duty, right?" Bond hops off his chair and heads for the door.

"Not so fast, 007." The doctor holds out a hand. "I said _most_ of your tests came back clear. Not _all_ of them. Please sit back down, Mr. Bond."

Bond does not sit down. He leans against the door and crosses his legs at the ankles. "Please, James to my friends. And really, no other name? Hmm, Alice?" he guesses smirking up at her.

She snorts. "We aren't friends. If you want me attention you'll call me Dr. Merridew or doctor."

"Really? I'm sure I'll change your mind at some point." She doesn't react, and Bond decides to move on. _We can revisit this another time, doctor_ , he decides. "Well, what is it? Nothing major, I hope?" he replies, raising an eyebrow.

"Have you had any sexual encounters recently?"

Bond raises both eyebrows this time. They do know who he is, right? He has a reputation to uphold! "Define _recently_ ," he finally says.

"Since your last physical," Dr. Merridew replies.

"A gentleman _never_ kisses and tells," he smirks. _Although I have definitely enjoyed some of the… finer pleasures this world has to offer._

The doctor sighs. "I'll take that as a yes. Fortunately, most of these are curable. And we can monitor the ones that aren't." She looks up and narrows her eyes. "As your doctor, I must warn you: while you are still contagious, you endanger your partners every time you engage in any kind of sexual activity."

Bond sighs. He's quickly getting bored of this. _Get to the point, doctor_ , he thinks. "If you could just sign off on my physical and allow me back on duty, I'm sure I could make it worth your while," he says aloud, adding a cheeky wink for good measure.

Dr. Merridew rolls her eyes. "Even if I swung that way, the answer would be no. How much do you know about sexually transmitted diseases?"

 _Ha, you say that now! Wouldn't be the first time I've helped someone realize they want a man_ , Bond thinks. "What are you saying, doctor? I assure you, I'm not sick. I think I'd know if I had any diseases!"

Dr. Merridew shakes her head and narrows her eyes. "I'm saying you have, oh, half a dozen different STDs. For most of these, it isn't that uncommon not to have any symptoms. Honestly, though, I'm a little surprised you haven't manifested _any_ symptoms." She shrugs. "I'm sure you can usually tell when your body is fighting against something, but many people live with an STD or two without ever realizing it."

Bond sighs. "Just fix whatever's wrong with me, and then I can get back to active duty."

"I don't want to mix your meds and cause more problems for you, so we're going to tackle these one at a time." Dr. Merridew shrugs. "You won't be cleared for a while."

Bond groans and lets his head thunk back into the wall. "Do you have any kind of time frame?"

"Let's see. It'll probably be upwards of two months or so, at the very least." She rolls her eyes at him. "It'll probably be around a week or two for most of the curable ones. The incurable ones?" she sighs. "We can only treat symptoms, and you don't have any."

"So do I have to do anything for those?"

She sighs. "No. We'll spend that time going through your physical tests. You will be cleared for active duty after the curable ones have cleared up and after passing the physical tests." The doctor pauses and looks up. "Oh, and one more thing. You may not have sex of any kind -- oral, vaginal, anal, manual, whatever -- until after you've been cleared. Do you understand?"

"I'm sorry, you _must_ be mistaken. An indefinite time without any kind of release? With all the beautiful women in this world?" He winks at her and adds silently, _Including you_.

The doctor smirks. "Yes, I'm sure it will be very hard for you. In fact…" she taps her clipboard a few times. "I think it will be best to keep you here, in the hospital, until you've been cleared. We'll keep you under observation and you won't be allowed off the premises unless I sign off on it."

Bond smiles at her. "Oh, but surely you could spare me? I get so lonely, you see, and I just require some company."

The doctor gives him an unimpressed look. "Say what you want; it won't change my mind. Let's get you to your room. We'll start treating you tomorrow."

\---

Apparently the first of his many venereal diseases is chlamydia. He's also got gonorrhea, syphilis, trichomoniasis, genital herpes, and human papillomavirus.

While the first four are curable, the last two aren't. The nurse keeping an eye on Bond, Peter, tells him Dr. Merridew has decided to start with the curable ones in alphabetical order and then move to a treatment plan with the two incurable ones.

"First up is chlamydia," Dr. Merridew announces as she comes in at breakfast. She checks the chart he's holding and gestures at Peter, who hands over a paper cup. "You'll take one capsule of doxycycline twice a day for seven days. This is your first dose."

Bond takes the proffered cup, swallows the pill and groans. "So this one is a week long, what about the others?"

Dr. Merridew shrugs. "Depends on how well you can follow instructions."

"I've always preferred to be the one _giving_ instructions, not _receiving_ them," Bond chuckles. "Though I have had the occasional bossy woman in my bed."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, wise guy. I'll see you at lunch," Peter snorts, shaking his head and following Dr. Merridew out of the room.

Bond watches as Peter leaves. "Wait!" he calls.

The nurse pauses in the doorway. "Yes?" he asks.

"What am I expected to do while I'm here? If I only get two pills a day?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "I'm sure you can come up with something. We have a lovely collection of magazines we can have brought up to you."

Bond mimics the gesture and rolls his own eyes in response. "Surely you could let me out to collect some reading material or something?"

"No can do, I'm afraid." Peter grins at him. "I _can_ go talk to M or Q, see what they can get for you to do."

"Thanks," Bond replies drily.

\---

The week is remarkably boring. Bond doesn't think he's ever had this much solitary downtime before. Usually, he's in constant motion, moving from mission to mission or from gorgeous young woman to gorgeous young woman.

When he explains this to Peter, the man only raises his eyebrows and says, "And now we know how you ended up in your current predicament, Mr. Bond."

Five days in, M comes to visit. "I do believe I've found something to keep you busy, 007," he announces as he comes in. It's a little after noon, and Bond is happy for the distraction.

"Sir?"

"Q and I put our heads together, and we realized that you haven't done any paperwork in decades! It's perfect. While you're on… bed rest, or whatever this is, you can catch up on all the paperwork you've neglected over the years."

"But, sir, surely someone else's job is to go through paperwork. Someone more suited to desk work, perhaps?"

"Nope!" M smiles sunnily. "Every agent is expected to do the paperwork for their own missions. You're always a little… busy after missions." He drops the stack on Bond's bedside table. "Here you go. This should keep you busy."

"Thank you, sir," Bond finally gets out, wincing. "What all is in there?" he asks, poking at the meter-high stack.

"Hmm, let's see." M starts ticking items off his fingers. "Insurance claims, hazard acceptance, collateral damage reports, medical releases, non-disclosure agreements, expense audits, oh, a will, um, a few others, I'm sure. They should all be clearly marked."

Bond smiles tightly. "Always a pleasure, sir." M waves and leaves Bond alone with the paperwork.

Grumbling, Bond leans back. _Leave it to M to bring me the boring work. Surely a new case will come up at some point and they'll have to let me help!_

\---

After a full week of chlamydia meds and staring at his pile of paperwork, Dr. Merridew shows up. "Peter says you've been taking your pills. I need you to pee into this cup. We'll see if your chlamydia has cleared up."

Bond does as asked. Dr. Merridew comes back with her clipboard. "All right. Your sample is being tested and will come back in, oh, a week or so. For now, let's move on to your gonorrhea."

Peter steps in the door carrying a tray with a syringe and needle.

"This is ceftriaxone. It's only one dose, but we need a week to make sure treatment has worked."

"Gonorrhea is something of a problem. It can be difficult to treat because many strains have become drug-resistant," Peter adds helpfully.

Dr. Merridew nods. "This should only hurt a little," she says, tapping the syringe. She jabs it in Bond's thigh and depresses the plunger. He's internally pleased that he manages not to wince at the sting.

"In a few days, you'll take a tablet of azithromycin. After that, we'll give you a week and a half. We'll test you for the gonorrhea and move on to dealing with the syphilis. The tests for the gonorrhea should get back a few days into the syphilis treatment."

Bond smiles thinly. He's getting rather tired of all this.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Dr. Merridew says suddenly. "Since you'll have a strength and endurance test after being cleared medically, you are now required to spend afternoons in the hospital gym. And, agent, _do_ keep it in your pants. We don't want you here any longer than you need to be."

Bond salutes her sarcastically. She scoffs and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

Bond slumps back against his bed's headboard. His gaze lands on the massive stack of paperwork, and he sighs. _Might as well get started_ , he thinks gloomily. _Doesn't sound like I'm going to be doing anything else anytime soon_.

By the time Peter comes in with his lunch, Bond has sorted the papers out into stacks by type of file.

"Hey! The infamous spy finally caved!" Peter cheers as he hands over the lunch tray. He slouches against the wall. "We've been laying bets on just how long it'd take before you got so bored you decided to work on the paperwork after all!" he chuckles.

Bond smiles. "Glad I can amuse you. So who won?"

Peter grins, looking pleased. "Me." After a moment he says, "When you're done with that, I'm to escort you to the gym."

"Mighty kind of you, Peter."

\---

Two weeks later, he's been announced clear of his chlamydia and his gonorrhea test has been sent off. "Next is your syphilis," Dr. Merridew announces. "This one is also a shot."

Peter smiles. He raises the tray he's holding a little. It looks remarkably similar to the tray they'd brought in for the gonorrhea dose.

"This one is three doses of penicillin over three weeks. Since you don't seem to have any symptoms and we can't be sure when you contracted it, we have to assume you have latent syphilis. The levels in the tests support that as well." Dr. Merridew shrugs. "Fortunately for you, you tested negative for HIV. But we will need to test again in three months."

Peter gestures for Bond to turn around, which he does reluctantly. Apparently the syphilis shot has to go in his ass. Bond holds very still as Peter jabs him with the needle. "I assure you, I do _not_ have HIV," he says when Peter steps back.

"Oh? Are you laboring under the assumption you can only get HIV if you have anal sex with another man? It is perfectly easy for straight men to acquire the virus as well. Especially when their immune systems have been compromised by other diseases and infections." Bond can't help but approve of the way Dr. Honeydew manages to make a mild rebuke sound scathing and utterly condescending.

Bond scoffs. "I may like it a little rough sometimes, but I've never felt the need to have it rough with a _man_."

Dr. Merridew raises her eyebrows. "Well, the reports about you clearly weren't exaggerated. You _do_ feel the need to correct everyone around you. May I remind you, _sir_ , that _I_ have the doctorate? That _I_ am the one qualified for medical diagnoses, treatments, and medical care?"

Bond nods. "And damn 'doctor' does look good on you." He whistles appreciatively.

"Interesting. The treatments certainly haven't damaged your libido." Dr. Merridew looks around his little room. "Clearly, you aren't done with your paperwork yet. A clear order, from M himself? I think that's much more important than anything else."

Bond raises his eyebrows. "My dear girl, what could you possibly mean by that? And for the record, almost dying, multiple times, even, hasn't dampened my libido, I don't know why semi-isolation would."

"Mm. Let's see about _full_ isolation. The only person you will interact with until you have finished that paperwork is Peter. He will bring you your meals three times a day. Other than that, you are confined to your bed."

"I do like a bit of sadism in a woman," Bond smirks. "Tell me, where am I expected to, uh, relieve myself?" He smiles charmingly at the doctor.

His charm does not have the desired effect. Dr. Merridew laughs suddenly and loudly. "Oh, dear God, you've been here for weeks! Please tell me he's kidding," she adds, turning to Peter.

The nurse shakes his head and grins. "Nope. He goes to the communal one when we're at the gym or else asks to be taken down the hall." Bond had almost forgotten about the nurse, but there he is, lurking in the doorway.

"For our best spy, you aren't very observant, are you?" Dr. Merridew asks, still chortling slightly. "Tell me, how many doors are there in this room?"

"Two," Bond answers promptly.

"Correct! One to the hallway and one to…" she trails off, raising her eyebrows.

Bond shrugs. "To the observation room so you can spy on me and make sure I'm behaving?" he guesses.

"No, that's what the mirror is for," Peter deadpans, pointing to the mirror directly opposite Bond's bed.

Bond can't quite tell if his nurse is joking or not. Honestly, he's willing to bet It's true.

"The second door is to a private bathroom," Dr. Merridew says. She points. "Your rooms aren't exactly standard, since you aren't contagious -- other than sexually, which let's remind you again, is _off limits_ \-- and you aren't exactly sick. So, you have a bathroom."

Peter straightens up and adds, "Use the toilet in there. If you want to piss in your bed, that's fine, but I'm not going to clean it up. And you aren't allowed out. So use the toilet or sleep in your own piss-stained sheets."

Bond waves a hand. "Never really been into water sports, to be honest. Don't worry, I'll use the toilet." Bond sighs. "So I'm stuck here until I finish my paperwork?"

"And learn some manners. But I think we all know that would take a miracle too big for even a god to handle, so I don't hold out much hope," Dr. Merridew replies snarkily.

Bond is struck by the powerful urge to stick his tongue out at her. And then maybe shove said tongue down her throat. "All right, then. I'll get all the paperwork done in record time." He smiles sunnily as Peter and Dr. Merridew leave.

 _All alone again_ , he thinks. _I suppose the paperwork can wait a bit_. Bond settles in for a much-deserved nap.

\---

Bond manages to finish the paperwork by week four of the syphilis, and he is finally allowed back into the gym.

Unfortunately, that means M comes up with another task for him to do while on 'medical leave'.

"Hello, 007! How are you doing?" M asks warmly as he comes in. It's the beginning of week five of his syphilis treatment, and week six overall.

"As well as can be expected, sir," he answers honestly. "It's not all that bad, although I doubt I've ever been so long without company."

"Yes, well, the idea is to cure you, treat you, whatever, not cause more problems." M holds out the clipboard and pad of paper he brought with him. "Since you've finished off your paperwork, I have another job for you. We need you to list anyone you've had, er, _relations_ with."

"Everyone?" Bond asks. _Shit, what if I can't remember them all_?

"Yes. We have reports of all of your missions, if that will help, as well as call logs, emails, money transfers, and anything else we thought might be useful. Some of which are from all the forms you just filled out." M smiles, looking quite pleased with himself. "Anyway, we need to know everyone you have ever, well, had relations with so we can contact them."

Bond sighs. "I'll do my best, sir."

"Good." M stares at him for a moment before sighing. "You're a problem, James. And this? This has only made it worse. You need to learn to control your baser urges."

"Sir?" Bond stares at him. "Surely you aren't suggesting it's my fault?"

M raises his eyebrows. "Are you suggesting it's not?"

"Well, I mean, it's not like I spontaneously developed diseases. They had to come from somewhere. And clearly that somewhere is not me. So, no, I don't think this is my fault."

M sighs and slumps. "Look, 007, we keep you because you're a damn good agent. But you're walking a very thin line here. Do your paperwork, I'll have another assignment when you're done." He turns to leave but stops in the door. "Oh, and I would talk to your doctor about where you ought to be placing the blame."

Bond frowns. "She'll say it goes with me," he replies. M has already left, so there's no response. "She hates me. I don't even know why. I'm a nice guy, right? Confident, capable, good-looking?"

"Are you talking to yourself? That's never a good sign," Peter interrupts from the doorway. He snickers a little, before adding, "Come on, it's your daily gym time."

Peter leads Bond to the less-than-impressive but still perfectly usable gym. Bond spends most of his workout trying to forget M's parting shot. _There's no way it can be my fault!_

\---

"All right then. That's the end of your syphilis treatments. And your gonorrhea test came back clear," Peter says.

After three weeks of treatment and another two weeks of waiting, Bond's blood work has gotten sent off to the lab to test if his syphilis has cleared up or not. He's now been stuck in the hospital for seven weeks, and he's starting to get a little tired of the same four white walls.

Bond rolls his eyes. "As it should. Are you sure all this is really necessary?"

Dr. Merridew snorts. "Yes. Some of these can cause problems for you down the line, especially syphilis. Others, if left untreated, can cause problems for your partners down the line. Speaking of which, have you finished your list?"

Bond smiles and hands her the notepad. "As requested: one list of all of my past sexual partners."

Dr. Merridew scans it before looking up. She does not look impressed. "Someone certainly gets around. There are dozens of names here! What are the stars for?"

"Hmm? Oh, those are the ones I know are dead by now," Bond replies. He lays back and folds his hands over his chest. "What's next?"

"A regular black widow, huh?" Dr. Merridew mutters. She passes the pad to Peter, who lets out a low whistle. "Next is your trichomoniasis."

"And what will this one be?" Bond asks warily. He's still not entirely convinced these are all necessary.

"This one is a dose of metronidazole twice a day for another seven days," Dr. Merridew explains as Peter holds out a paper cup. "Then we'll wait a week and retest you. It's not particularly common to be asymptomatic for trichomoniasis, but you seem to be remarkably lucky." She shrugs and counters, "Or remarkably unlucky, depending on how you look at it."

Bond takes the proffered pill and swallows it down. "So I have to wait a week?"

"Yes. And then we'll have two more to discuss. This is the last of your curable STDs; the next two are viral, not bacterial."

Bond sighs. "All right then. And should I assume M will come by to give me more paperwork?"

"Hmm?" Dr. Merridew pauses in the doorway. "Oh, possibly. I do believe the outside world is facing something of a… disaster right now. He's a little busy."

"What?" Bond sits up and heads for the door, only to be blocked by Peter and the doctor. "There's been an emergency, and I'm still stuck here?"

"We told you," Dr. Merridew tuts. "You aren't cleared for active duty. You aren't going anywhere until I set you free." She grins, takes a step back, and closes his door. He can hear the lock click as she waves.

"From now on, you are not allowed out of your room without an escort. Peter will come by to take you to the gym after lunch." Peter nods and gives him a thumbs-up. "I'll see you in a week, Mr. Bond!" Dr. Merridew calls as she disappears down the hall.

Bond slumps back into his bed. _There's an emergency, and they don't even need me? What's the point of me even being an agent? Although I suppose I would hate retired life. I can't even take two months of_ this.

His thoughts circle around each other until M shows up the next day.

"007! How are they treating you?" He doesn't wait for an answer before continuing, "We knew you were a rake, but phew! Not to this extent."

"Thank you, sir," Bond replies. "Surely I am cleared by now," he adds hopefully.

"Bond, my good fellow, you aren't cleared until the doctor says so. And she hasn't yet." M looks at him. "Although it would be nice if you could be cleared. We do have something of an emergency on our hands," M says absentmindedly, staring into space.

"So override the doctor, sir!" Bond exclaims. "Come on, please, sir. Surely I'm healthy by now. I'll do anything to prove it."

M raises his eyebrows. " _Anything?_ Get your doctor to sign off on your discharge, then." Bond slumps back into his chair, defeated.

"Fine, sir. What work do you have for me now?" he asks, putting on his best professional face. _I have to convince him I'm capable._

"008 is off in France right now, tracking reports of a deadly bioweapon. You'll be her ground support. I want you to go through all reports, data, and information she acquires. You'll sift through it to determine what is actually worthwhile." M looks up at him. "Think you can handle that?"

"Yes, sir," Bond grumbles. _I'd do a better job than Catherine Shocker_ , he grumbles internally. _She's supposed to be_ my _second, not the other way around._

"Oh, and 007, don't get jealous. 008 is clean, does her physicals regularly, and is honestly more trustworthy than you are. She's a model agent in every regard." He stops at the doorway and waves. "I'll check in soon. Follow the doctor's orders. I'm sure you'll be back in action in no time!"

Bond watches as M leaves him alone again. He still can't believe he has to do Cate's grunt work. She isn't any better than him!

\---

A week passes and Bond is declared done with his trichomoniasis treatment. As per the pattern so far, the results will come back in around a week or so. All that's left are the two incurable ones, herpes and HPV.

Meanwhile, Bond had followed as Cate runs halfway around the world, following a paper trail. Bond has been an invaluable help to this effort, if he does say so himself. Cate had started in France, but it was Bond who found the link to the Spanish lab equipment company that Cate is currently investigating.

But Bond has bigger things to worry about, since he's up for his next treatment.

"Next we're going to tackle your herpes," Dr. Merridew announces. Strangely, neither she nor Peter seem to have any medicine with them. "This one's probably the easiest. You don't have any symptoms, so there isn't really anything we can do."

"So we can move onto the next thing?" Bond asks hopefully. "I'm almost free?"

"Ha, no. You need to be aware of the symptoms. It is very important you refrain from unprotected sex while you or your partner are symptomatic. So, we've prepared a handy dandy slideshow for you to see examples of the most common symptoms."

Peter cuts the lights and Dr. Merridew projects an image onto the bare wall. Bond tries not to flinch.

"You must be able to identify any symptoms on yourself or your partners," Dr. Merridew narrates as she clicks through. "Not only is sex while symptomatic dangerous for everyone involved, it also massively increases your risk for contracting HIV." Bond opens his mouth to argue, but she cuts him off. "Nope. The open sores increase the likelihood you might contract it. We are not rehashing your macho bullshit understanding of how the world works right now."

Bond sighs and watches the pictures. He tries not to wince at most of them. "Wait, stop," he barks suddenly. "I've seen that before," he says pointing at the screen. It's a picture of a woman with a few clusters of pus-colored sores scattered around between her legs.

"Don't tell me. One of your conquests looked like this and you thought everything was normal?" Dr. Merridew drawls. "Well, do you remember who? We might be able to establish who could've give it to you from that."

Bond shrugs. "Yeah, I remember. Gorgeous young lady, dark curly hair and curves to make anyone jealous. Name of…" he trails off before snapping his fingers. "Oh! Her name's Rachel Brown. She's on the list."

Peter and Dr. Merridew share a look. "Okay, new plan," Dr. Merridew announces. "We're going to show you images of all the most common symptoms associated with these diseases and infections. You'll tell us if you've seen any of them before."

"Either on a partner or on yourself," adds Peter. "We know you say you've never had symptoms, but it's possible something will jog your memory."

Bond sighs. "Whatever gets me out of here faster," he grumbles.

Bond spends the next few days subjected to slide show after slide show of pictures. In other circumstances, he might have been perfectly happy to examine so many pictures of gorgeous women. Any enjoyment he might have felt is drained by the watchful eyes of Dr. Merridew and Peter. While he does enjoy a bit of exhibitionism, it's really only when he can show off how much pleasure he can bring a woman. Enjoying pictures in front of someone who hates him is different.

After a few days of this, Dr. Merridew comes in. "All right, Bond. We've done as much contact tracing as we can. We'll spend the next few days reaching out to all of your past partners, and we'll look at your HPV then. Your trichomoniasis test should have come back by then, too."

Bond settles in to wait. He knows the drill by now. Dr. Merridew, for some reason, seems determined to keep him in the hospital for as long as feasible. He isn't sure why, though. She clearly hates him, although he still holds out hope that he'll get her in his bed one day. He hates being here, and Cate is stuck doing _his_ job in the outside world.

 _I suppose I can at least help Cate_ , he thinks as he settles in to wait.

\---

At the start of his tenth week in the hospital, Dr. Merridew comes in. "Last one!" she declares. "This one is HPV."

"And what do I have to do for this one?" Bond asks warily.

"Well, this one is like herpes. We can't really treat or cure the virus itself. You don't have symptoms, so we can't treat them. There is a vaccine for it, but it's really for children. You are a good bit older." She pauses and adds, frowning at her clipboard, "It is a small worry that you seem to have no symptoms, though."

"Small worry?" prompts Bond. "It can't be worse than the others, can it?" He laughs a little.

Dr. Merridew glares at him. "Yes. No symptoms indicates high-risk HPV. High-risk HPV means there's a chance you could develop penile cancer."

Bond blinks. "Oh."

"Yes. Fortunately for you, penile cancer is rather rare and you seem to be clear. We'll run more tests this afternoon to make sure, but you don't seem to have any of the warning signs we would normally associate with cancer." She cocks her head and adds thoughtfully, "Although you do seem to have a rather remarkable ability to not display symptoms. So who knows?"

Bond shrugs. "So I'm good? I can go?"

"Hmm?" Dr. Merridew blinks at him. "Oh, no. Your HPV should clear up on its own within a few years. However, until then you run the risk of giving cancer to any partner with a cervix."

Bond blinks. "You just said it was rare. Why is that a concern?"

"I said penile cancer is rare. Cervical cancer is also rare, but less so," Dr. Merridew corrects. "You need to understand that every time you have sex with someone, especially without protection, you are probably passing whatever STDs you have to your partner."

"Why does everyone keep making this my fault?" Bond complains, sitting up. "You act like I'm the one with the problem. Like it's my problem to fix. And it isn't! I didn't know I had these, so how was I to know to worry about them?"

"Tell me, Mr. Bond. Have you ever brought up protection with a partner? Of any kind?"

"No. If she doesn't want to get pregnant, that's her choice. She should be taking pills or whatever. It isn't my job to decide for her," Bond replies.

Dr. Merridew throws her hands up. "And there you see the problem! Look, you need to make sure you are using protection in the future. HPV is very easy to transmit, so you _must_ wear a condom. For _any_ sex. With anyone."

Bond blinks at her. She sighs and pinches her nose. "You have heard of a condom before, haven't you?"

Bond shakes his head silently. "I know they exist, but why would I ever need them?"

"Yeah, that's your problem." Dr. Merridew shakes her head. "Listen, someone on your little list is going to show up someday with a massive load of STDs and a kid, just because you couldn't be bothered to bag your damn self."

Bond shrugs. "I'm perfectly happy to let my progeny exist," he replies.

Dr. Merridew groans. "Look, we're going to run your tests, make sure you're still clear of everything, don't have cancer, and don't have HIV." She raises a finger before he can open his mouth. "You'll be released once you pass your physical evaluation."

As promised, Bond is left alone. He takes the chance to check up on Cate. Apparently, she's made her way to Italy and is tracking some sort of warehouse's finances. It sounds exceedingly dull and Bond leaves her to it. She'll probably contact him if she needs something; she's always been bitchy enough to rub his face into whatever misfortune he's currently dealing with.

\---

Dr. Merridew comes in the next day. "All right then, you are clear of trichomoniasis and you do not appear to have cancer. We'll begin your physical tests tomorrow. It'll probably be about a week's worth of tests."

Bond smiles. "So I'm almost done?" She nods. "I was wondering if you could help me learn to put a condom on," he adds. "I've been doing some self-reflection and I realized I should take a more active role in my sex life."

He tries to smile winningly. She snorts. "Am I supposed to believe that?" She looks down at her clipboard and hands him a file folder full of pages. "There is one other thing. Seven of the women on your list reported that after having sex with you they became pregnant. They've sent in DNA reports, and you are in fact the father in all seven cases. Congratulations," she adds drily.

Bond shrugs. "So I have children? Cool."

"Not really, no. You do not have visiting rights for any of the children. All seven women have sued for child support. Also, one of them, Pussy Galore, I think?"

Bond nods. "I remember her. Owned a flight school. Lovely woman."

"She's filing rape charges. Apparently you forced yourself on her. She's suing you for emotional damage, the cost of the medical bills, _and_ the child support." She raises her eyebrows. "Consent is important."

Bond groans. "She wanted it! She just put up an argument at the beginning."

"The way she's telling it, she didn't consent. Which makes it rape. And given that it's _you_ , there is very little doubt in the public's mind of who is in the wrong. Anyway, you've got a rape trial to deal with after this, as well as the lawsuit. Oh, and your wages will be garnished to pay for child support." She smiles brightly. "But enough of that, let's start your physical evaluations!"

Bond follows Dr. Merridew to the gym. He passes the shooting accuracy test and the cardio endurance test with flying colors. Peter escorts him back to his room afterwards. Apparently he'll have strength tests on one day, logic and reasoning the day after, a psychological evaluation the day after that, and, finally, a practical skills test in a simulated field environment.

"And when you've passed all of them, you will be free to go," Peter finishes. "Can't say we'll be too heartbroken to say good-bye," he teases.

\---

Unsurprisingly, Bond passes all of his tests with flying colors. The only slight one he stumbles on is the psychological evaluation. Apparently, he's "got a chauvinistic streak a mile long" and has "a blind spot the size of Europe when it comes to pretty women." Bond holds that it's not his fault. Clearly Dr. Merridew or Peter bribed the evaluator or changed the results as a parting shot.

Meanwhile, Cate had managed to determine and avert the crisis. MI6 has been singing her praises ever since, and Bond can't seem to take a step without someone mentioning something about how Cate Shocker is the "best agent we've ever had!" Bond is not happy about this. _He's_ supposed to be the best agent at MI6!

"Well, 007, to be perfectly honest, 008 is better than you." M tells him two weeks after Bond is discharged from Dr. Merridew's care. "She managed to complete her mission with much less loss of life, collateral damage, and national embarrassment. But don't worry! We were already planning to start a phased retirement for you. You know, fewer missions, more desk work, that kind of thing."

"I'm sorry, sir?" Bond asks neutrally. Surely he heard wrong. They can't be planning to retire him! Can they?

"I do believe you heard me. The fact is, you're a wonderful agent, but times are changing. And you aren't changing with them." He looks away and shuffles some papers around his desk. Finally he sighs and says, "We do have another job for you. We want you to be the public face of MI6's safer sex campaign." He smiles, looking utterly pleased with himself. "It'll be wonderful. You'll do a series of ads, posters, magazines, give speeches, the whole nine yards."

"Really, sir? That sounds wonderful," Bond says, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his tone and avoid wincing.

"Yes, it does, doesn't it. As per your new contract, which we will negotiate next week, you must use protection every time you… enjoy yourself. We won't have cameras on you, of course," he titters awkwardly, "but you will have mandatory STD screenings every month, before and after missions, and you must keep a list of all partners you engage with." M shrugs. "Although if you get married again we certainly won't require you to decide one way or the other," he adds.

"Is that all, sir?" Bond asks faintly.

"Just about. And don't worry, we'll provide you with all the necessary materials." M smiles and waves. "Have a wonderful day, 007! I'll see you next week!"

Bond leaves M's office, avoids Moneypenny, and goes home to sulk. _And I never did get to try out that lovely doctor_ , he grumbles to himself. _It's shit like this that explains why I never go to a doctor._


End file.
